Give In
by Skaiaa
Summary: "What we have isn't healthy." They're working with what they have, but sometimes things fall apart despite your best efforts. RikuRoku, one sided RikuSo for a while. - Rewritten and reposted.
1. Chapter 1

chapters for this story will range between about 500 and 2,500 words  
some will be more uh, graphic than others yup  
the POV is a bit warped, but i think it works better this way

* * *

What we have isn't healthy.

I _know _that.

But that knowledge doesn't stop me from coming back for more. You're like an addiction I just can't kick. I'm forever craving more of you; though I know that it's not you that I really want.

You're just a replacement, and what kills me is that you know.

I'm alerted to you when your body shifts against mine, skin connecting with mine and reminding me you're a real person.

Your own person.

I can't stop myself from dragging my fingers against the contour of your bare hips. You mumble something softly in your sleep, but once I stop my motions, you're quiet once again.

I sigh lightly, stepping out of the warm cocoon of blankets we've made for ourselves and giving you the once over. Shivering lightly at the loss of warmth, I pad over to where I set down my phone down the previous night.

The desire to hear his voice is too much for even me to resist and before I'm aware of my actions, I press his number on my speed dial.

"'Lo?" He mumbles out, voice deeply saturated with sleep.

"Hey Sora, you busy right now?" I ask lightly, trying to make a joke out of calling him this early in the morning.

"It's three am Riku, what on earth do you _need_?" He asks, obviously irritated and slightly confused.

"I need you to come get your brother. I found him stumbling around piss drunk a while ago and he's kind of taking up my bed space. Couldn't leave him out there on his own so I brought him back here," my lie is smooth; it was one I'd told many times before.

"God, again? I'll be there in twenty minutes, sorry about this, Riku." He says, sounding angry and apologetic.

"No worries, at least I found him." I respond, and after a mumbled goodbye, the phone line goes dead.

As I walk over to wake you up, I'm slightly apprehensive. I expect you to be angry and frustrated; after all, I've done this far too many times to count. To my surprise though, when I wake you you're fairly calm. You drowsily get out of bed.

My bed.

Our bed?

Within minutes, you're fully dressed but still looking a touch groggy. When the doorbell rings you shoot me a look filled with understanding and pity.

My stomach lurches; I'm going to be sick.

You open the door for me, revealing a particularly livid looking brunet. He's angry and tired and irritated and _perfect_.

"For fucks sakes Roxas, c'mere." He says, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you towards him in a rough motion. His gaze finally meets mine and I'm offered an apologetic glance.

"I'm really sorry about all this, thanks for always taking care of him. I don't know what would happen to him if you weren't around to pick him up all the time."

You would be safe, sane, normal. You wouldn't be a kid having to deal with a dysfunctional adult.

"Glad to be of service. After all, who doesn't enjoy picking up drunken sixteen year olds at midnight."

I can see you trying to hide a smile that makes its way onto your pretty little face. I get the feeling this is all some little joke to you, isn't it, Roxas?

He offers me a more exasperated smile, offering me another thanks before turning to pull you out the door.

I'm suddenly struck with the desire to touch him.

"Sora."

He pauses, turns back to me with an inquisitive expression on his face. I reach out and rest my hand on his head, ruffling those soft brown spikes.

"Get home safe, alright?" I say, my excuse for having stopped him a little longer.

He dons a more genuine smile and I feel a little less sick. With a nod, he's out the door and I shut it behind him.

I lean against it, sliding down and resting my head in my hands.

I feel horrible.

Guilty, fake, atrocious.

Why is it that I'm able to hurt you? To taint you? To break you?

Yet the very thought of doing the same to him makes me fell ill. I couldn't dirty him like that.

A small curse leaves my lips and I pull myself off the floor. I'm in search of alcohol; I always have some around the house.

A little sip of something strong should dull these feelings for a while.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up the next morning has me feeling like shit.

At least I'm alone.

On the rare occasion that I don't send you home in the middle of the night, waking up next to you makes me feel sick.

I feel like I've done something horrid, some unmentionable monstrosity. But it's hitting me that this is a normal occurrence. I know, I just know, that you can feel it too; the fact that I hate this. My emotions on the matter pour off me in waves and you're the last person I hide them from.

I'm pulling you under, drowning you under the weight of this. But I don't stop.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I hurt you, I'm sorry I keep hurting you.

And I'm sorry I can't stop.

I bring a hand up to knead at my throbbing head. I guess I had a bit more than I'd intended. I don't recall anything after you left, just the brief memory of finding a bottle of whisky.

All that's really coming back to me is before. The feeling of your skin against mine, the sound of your light breathing, the sensation as our bodies pressed together and became one.

Fuck.

A groan leaves my lips and I'm out of bed and heading towards the bathroom. I need a shower.

Stepping into the scalding spray manages to pull a sigh from my body. My hand snakes down, and after a few strokes, I slowly feel myself coming to life.

Feeling raw, this is the time when it's hardest to block out the thoughts.

Thoughts of you, thoughts of him.

Blond blurs into brown and I let go of my cock, screaming a curse into my drain as I let my fist fly at the wall. It connects with cold tile, tearing the skin on my knuckles and leaving brilliant red smears on the squares.

I stare at my bleeding hand for a moment before climbing out of the shower. Nothing feels broken, I should be fine.

I'm still aching with need and it furthers my restless and frustrated mood.

I need to touch him.

So I call you.

You pick up after the third ring, as always, and you're hissing into the phone.

"_What?_"

"I need you." I whisper, lying down on the floor without drying myself.

"I can't right now, I'm at school," is your reply. You sound vaguely regretful.

"_Please_." My voice comes out broken, desperate. Maybe there's something about the way I say it, Maybe you can hear the raw need in my voice. Whatever it is, it works and I'm grateful for it.

"I'll be there in half an hour," you say after a brief pause, hanging up the phone without another word.

I drop my phone next to me and wait.

And wait.

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

It feels like hours pass before I finally hear the key turning in my lock. You're the only one with a spare.

I think you finally spot me because I hear a quiet profanity leave your lips and you're slipping off your shoes to walk over to me. You kneel where I'm sitting, still slightly wet and stark naked. Nothing you haven't seen before.

There's a sharp intake of breath and your hand is ghosting over mine.

"Are you _bleeding?_" You ask, grabbing my hand and lifting it up so you can get a closer look. Your touch is what finally shakes me from my stupor and I lurch up and roughly mash my lips against yours.


	3. Chapter 3

My hands are already searching for the clasp on your belt, fingers undoing the whole confusing mess in record time. It's amazing how easily you relax into my touch, stilling as you let me take control.

You know it's what I need right now.

I sit up, pushing you back and hearing a thud as your back hits the floor. You raise an eyebrow, the tiniest of smirks on your face.

"You're gonna fuck me on the floor?"

I don't respond and you go as far as to let out a laugh that quickly turns into a gasp as my fingers find their way under your shirt and scratch along your waistline. I yank the entire shirt off you, leaving you cold and shivering and my eyes turn hazy with want.

Your pants are the next to go, pulling them down and off to reveal a still flaccid cock.

We're both completely naked now.

I don't mind.

I waste no time in going down on you, taking you into my mouth and listening as you moan for me.

A sick part of me imagines this is what he would taste like, what he would sound like.

Your sounds spur me on and I work you until you're at your limit and trembling for release. That's where I stop, sliding you out of my mouth and delighting in the small whimper you make. I need to feel more of you, and my hands roam.

They stroke over every inch of your skin, touching and caressing whatever they can reach.

I internalize your every gasp; every hitch of your breath becomes engraved in my memory.

My nails dig in hard when they reach your hips, hard enough to bruise and tear skin. I press my lips against yours at that moment, drinking in the pained groan you offer me.

I'm having trouble seeing you as him right now and that pisses me off.

Pisses me off enough to want to hurt you.

I pull back, flipping you onto your stomach and hiking your ass up in the air.

I don't bother with prep, I want you to scream.

And scream you do, letting out a sound that's anything but pleasure as I shove inside you in one rough motion. That gets me off and I find myself slamming into you as fast as I can go.

I want you to be louder.

I drag my nails roughly up the length of your back, leaving bright red welts and causing you to shudder; whether out of pain or renewed pleasure I don't know.

I'm close and I give in to the feeling, of how tight you are and how you're starting to remind me of him again.

I come.

You don't.

I pull out, finding you completely flaccid. I flip you back so you're facing me and when I see your face, something in me just cracks.

You're furiously blinking back tears; tears that I know are coming from the pain. Your hands are balled up into tight little fists, huddled protectively over your chest as you stare up at me. What kills me most is that there's no anger in your eyes; just pain and care.

I feel sick again.

My hand goes up to cover my mouth as you slowly unball your hands. I slide off you, falling back and landing on my ass as I stare at you.

You try and sit up, wincing and letting out a cry of pain. I can see you visibly shaking with the strain but my body won't listen to me and I can't move to help you. You finally make it, breathing deeply as a few tears push through the guard of your eyelids and slip down your cheeks.

You smile at me.

Something in me breaks.

I'm sorry. Roxas, I'm sorry. Fuck I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you like that. I didn't mean to hurt you ever. I'm sorry, Roxas.

You don't hear me because I'm not speaking.

You seem to find your voice before I can find mine.

"Are you alright?"

The fact that the question is coming from you makes me feel like a giant sack of shit. I finally find my bearings, standing up and offering you a curt nod. I find boxers, slipping them on and finding an extra shirt.

I slip it on you, and it's impossibly large on your lithe form.

I can't believe I'm hurting something so small and delicate.

I pick you up and even with my careful efforts not to jostle you, you flinch at my touch.

I set you on the bed and you turn your hazy gaze towards me, reaching out and stroking my cheek with the tips of your fingers.

"I hope you're feeling better." You mumble softly, and for once I climb in next to you.

You close your eyes, but I can tell you're not asleep. I spend the next twenty minutes carding my fingers through your blond spikes. They're different from his, shorter and smoother. You purr softly at my touch and I think this would be a touching moment if I hadn't just done what I did and you weren't here for all the wrong reasons.

You finally crack your eyes open, pushing away from me slightly and doing your best to stand up. You manage, though I can see the struggle it is for you.

You don't ask for my help, I don't offer it.

"I'm going away with a friend for two days. Think you can manage that long?"

There's a fair amount of humor in your voice and I can't believe you have it in you to be cheeky.

"I'll be fine."

I know I can go without your touch for a week minimum and you turn to smile at me.

"Thank you."

I'm starting to wonder who exactly it is that I am addicted to.


	4. Chapter 4

The very next day you're gone, I get a call from him.

"Riku! Come to lunch with me, I've got a surprise!"

I nod absently, realizing he can't see me after the fact. A part of me doesn't want to leave the house. I just sat down to begin the tedious process of sorting through my shit.

It turns out I have a lot more of your clothes than I thought, and it's turned into a task of sorting yours from mine.

But it's _him_. How could I possibly say no?

"Sure thing, where at?" I ask, getting up and finding the clean clothes pile.

"Mona's at two?" He suggests, and I nod again, glancing at the clock. It's one thirty, I can make it.

"I'll be there," I answer. And with an excited little laugh and a goodbye, he hangs up.

I arrive at Mona's at five past two, which is close enough. The waitress seems to know who I am and she directs me to a table where I spot him. Immediately though, my attention is drawn to a head of auburn hair sitting next to him. He beckons me closer and I manage to keep my expression steady despite the nasty feeling I have brewing in my gut.

"Hey! Sit, there's someone I'd like you to meet," he says, sounding horribly enthusiastic and pointing to the chair opposite of them.

I know exactly what's going to happen next.

It's like a nightmare I've had far too many times.

"Kairi, this is Riku, my long time best friend and my brother's keeper. Riku, this is Kairi, the girl of my _dreams_." He says cheerily, causing the chipper girl sitting next to him to giggle.

It's weird.

I feel like I'm supposed to be feeling a torrent of emotions, but the only thought running through my mind is that I want out of there.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Riku," she says with a small smile, sticking her hand out across the table. And for a moment, I do absolutely nothing but stare at her. She withdraws her hand and the smile starts to fall off her face but I manage to muster up a charming smile in time.

"Likewise, Kairi. Treat him well, alright? I mean I have a general rule against hitting girls but..." I trail off, impressed at my ability to crack a joke when I feel horrifically blank. I think I need to throw up.

She and Sora both laugh, and she mockingly places both fists up.

"I can totally take you on," she jokes, and my face slips into a more relaxed smile.

"I'm sure you can," I reply, even bringing a laugh to my lips.

I can feel my palms sweating and my head is throbbing and I need something, anything, to get me out of here. I don't think I can handle an entire hour of taking to this girl.

As if on cue, I feel my phone vibrate and I snatch it out of my pocket like it's my only lifeline. It's only a text message, but it's all I need. Unexpectedly it's from you.

"_I forgot to mention, but do you mind staying away from Sora while I'm gone? I'll explain when I get back. Please Riku, just do this one thing for me."_

You're always looking out for me. I text you back a quick 'alright,' no need to alarm you while you're away.

I look up at Sora with the most apologetic look I can muster, which is actually quite convincing considering I'm sorry for a lot of things right this very second.

"I'm really sorry you two, but I have to be on my way. Kairi, it was lovely meeting you. I hope to be seeing much more of you." I say smoothly, shooting them both a smile.

Sora looks mildly disappointed, but he lets me go without further explanation.

I stumble out of the small diner, and frankly I'm not sure how I manage to make it home.

There's one thing I need right now. It's you. Your touch, your voice, your looks.

But you're not here right now; these two days are going to be hell without you.


	5. Chapter 5

I haven't eaten anything in two days, nor have I slept.

I drank a lot though, that's one thing I do remember doing this past little while. Anything I did manages to blur out.

I don't remember having a drinking problem; I just use it to dull the pain every now and again. That's not being an alcoholic, that's being an escapist.

Lying on my back, limbs spread out in the middle of the floor.

My thoughts are directed towards one thing and one thing only.

You.

Your touch; how I'm craving it, how I need it. How I need you.

But again, you're not here.

Why'd you leave?

My phone rings for the ninth time in the past hour and I'm impressed I can keep count. That doesn't stop me from ignoring it though, I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone. There's a hollow ache in my stomach that would probably trouble me if I wasn't this drunk.

I ignore that too.

I feel like I need sleep, but I can't. The constant humming in my head makes it impossible to reach for the bottle of fucking Tylenol, let alone haul myself up and get into bed.

I close my eyes but instead of the dark, there's just a vivid white light. I lay in the brightness for what feels like hours, slipping in and out of consciousness.

I hear a key turn in the lock and I can't believe I'm having auditory hallucinations.

"Riku? Rik- _oh my god. _Riku!"

Is that your voice? Oh wow, that sounds real nice right about now. It's oddly soothing and the blinding white fades into a comforting dull grey.

I think I feel hands and I try and open my eyes. They flicker for a moment and I catch a glimpse of your frantic face before they slip shut again; far too heavy to keep open.

"Fuck, you're breathing. Riku, fuck please please stay awake. Riku? Riku please." You're pleading with me, but I'm still not really convinced you're real. I feel like I might be dreaming, but what's the difference. Everything melds together.

Your voice starts to fade, which upsets me, but it's replaced by the comforting black I've been seeking for days.

Blessed sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

bleh sorry for the delay, real life got a bit pressing if you know what i mean ugh  
also i know very little about what happens in hospitals oops

* * *

When I wake, the first thing that greets me is the sickeningly clinical smell of a hospital. My eyes flicker open, squinting through the white light to reveal a pair of identically worried looking faces.

I focus on yours first.

You're the first one to notice I'm awake, the first one to get up, the first one to stumble over to me.

"Riku?" Your voice holds dozens of questions, and for the strangest reason I can see your eyes watering. That's odd; I haven't seen you cry out of emotion since you were seven years old. He's right there behind you though, tears welling up in his eyes too.

But it's you who kneels down, it's you who smothers their face in my chest, and it's you who starts crying while he pats your back.

It's me who lays there and tries to take it all in.

My hand instinctively rises to brush soothingly through your golden spikes. I even feel a smile rise to my lips at the fact that you're there. I manage a glance at Sora, who looks like he's got a few questions for both me and you.

When you finally quiet, pushing off me and trying to look strong, you start babbling.

I think it's cute.

"Riku I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left you, I shouldn't have gone anywhere. I almost lost you. Oh my god I almost _lost_ you. I should have known better. I should have stayed with you and-"

"Roxas."

That one word from me halts your chatter. My voice, though hoarse and foreign, still has power over you. I just beckon you closer with my hand. You lean down next to me and I find the energy to reach up and grab the collar of your shirt.

Before I can think too much about it, I pull you down, chapped lips meeting yours briefly and cracking a small smile.

"Missed you," I mumble, suddenly feeling tired all over again.

The last thing I see is his shocked face as he looks at you, blue eyes filled with even more questions than before. That's going to be a fun conversation.

When I wake up again, there's no one in the room except for a man whom I assume is the doctor if his white coat has anything to say about it. He's looking particularly displeased, and all I can do is give him a fairly blank stare.

"You're very lucky, Riku. If you'd come in any later you might have slipped into more permanent coma." The doctor says, checking something on the machine beeping softly next to me.

"How long have I been out?" I ask, and it seems like a fairly reasonable question.

"Six days." The man says curtly. Holy shit.

There's silence while the doctor scribbles something on a little notepad he's holding and I wait for more. A part of me is wondering where you are.

"We had to pump your stomach, but all we found was alcohol. You had a serious case of alcohol poisoning and you were severely lacking in essential vitamins. We had to put you on a drip, which should be taken out by the end of today. You'll be ready for discharge by the end of tomorrow."

I take in everything he says through a screen, not really associating that he's talking about me. He finally catches my attention with his next statement though.

"You've got quite the diligent little visitors, Riku."

My head cocks to the side and I focus a questioning look on the man.

"The two boys," the man explains, "I just sent them out of the room. They both stayed the entire time you were sleeping. The browned haired one left a few times to go home, but the little blond lived in that chair," the doctor finishes, gesturing to a hard plastic chair pressed up against one of the walls.

"I'm sorry." I say after a while, a little at a loss with myself.

"As you should be. I don't want to see you back here again, especially not for alcohol poisoning."

He finally heads out the door and as soon as he's out, I see another person flow in. It's you, looking slightly nervous and more than a little distressed. You're holding a cup and when you reach me, you hold it out to me. I'm delighted to see that it's water and I swish it down all in one go.

"Thank you," I murmur, watching you attentively as you nod and take the cup back from me and deposit it in the trash.

You look like you're about to leave again, and that's the last thing I want. Your name passes my lips in a quiet whisper and you stop and face me.

"I'm sorry," I finally manage to say, and you look a little confused.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," you say firmly, like you really believe that.

"I do," I challenge, the look on my face stopping you from arguing with me. I press on, letting the rush of words pass through without thinking about them.

"I'm sorry for putting you through this. I've been hurting you. I've been a selfish asshole and you've been humoring me for god knows why. I think we should stop this. No, I- I know we need to stop. Whatever it is we're doing, we're going to quit it. You're sixteen, god you could be doing so much better right now, you know that? But instead I tied you down, used you as a replacement for something I couldn't have and dragged you along for my fucked up ride. You're young, your main responsibility shouldn't be taking care of someone almost five years older than you."

I don't remember the last time I said that much to anybody about anything.

My voice is slow but firm and I watch a myriad of emotions flit across your features.

Your expression ranges from sad to frustrated to wistful and finally settles on defeated. Your lips purse and I think you're cute when you do that.

You step right up to the side of my bed, bending over and nuzzling your nose against the side of my face, eventually setting a kiss on my cheek before pulling away.

"Why do you think I do it?" You ask, voice barely above a tiny whisper as you look at me. Your eyes scream that you're far older than your official age and you've got a strange expression that I've never seen before on your face. I think for a moment, really considering the question before I shrug.

"I think you feel bad for me. I think you feel like since you've started, you're now obligated to stick this through until one of us breaks. And you're not. You don't have to do this, you know." I answer, watching something horribly sad pass over your features.

You smile though, and for some reason it pulls at something inside of me.

"Sometimes I'm grateful you even know my name, you know that? I don't think you know what it's like, hell, I'm positive you don't. I don't think many people do. I remember watching you watch him. That was a type of adoration I'd never seen before. I wanted it. You know why I wanted it?

"Well of course you don't. You don't because you don't see _me_. You see _him_. That used to get to me, back when I wanted more out of this. But after four years of being enamoured with you, two years of being literally fucked by you, and one year of realizing I was in love with you, I stopped wanting anything at all. I don't care anymore. All that matters to me is that you're sleeping with me and not him. It's a pretty shitty life motivator, but as long as you remember something like my name, you're not hurting me as much as you think you are. You're just hurting yourself.

"And for the record, you're not the selfish asshole here. It's me. Maybe if I was a better person, I would have turned you down right off the bat, encouraged you to get over this _thing_, this obsession you have for Sora. But I didn't. I used your situation to my advantage to get closer to you. And here we are now.

"So no, I don't feel fucking obligated to do this. I'm here by _choice_, I'm here because I love you. And I'm sorry I'm not him, I'm sorry I can't be him. Trust me, I am. There's no one more regretful out there that I am who I am. But if it's for you, I can pretend as much as you need me to, even if that's forever. I don't ever have to be me."

Your voice stays perfectly calm and your eyes don't ever leave mine, even when you make a grand sweep at the end and laugh at your own emphasis.

I don't know how you can laugh, because I can barely process everything you've just said to me.

"Rox-"

"Don't. I don't need you to say anything, I don't need you to comfort me or tell me that I'm fine the way I am or you're sorry or that it's alright. It's not _alright._ But I'm _okay_ with things the way they are. Take a couple days. Just- Take a couple days and get better okay? I'll be a phone call away, but maybe you need time to really think about this before you decide you don't want to do this anymore. You're not the only one who's dependant, remember that."

And with that, you're done, taking committed strides towards the door and leaving me wondering just what exactly I'd been doing to you over the years.

I fucked up.


End file.
